


The One With The Butt

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [10]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, The One with the Butt (Friends)."</p><p>In which Rodney is annoyed by the Marines' newest boredom-relieving project: "Vote for the Best Butts of Atlantis!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One With The Butt

Rodney knew the marines, as a general rule, were hard-working, and smarter than the average grunts to have been selected for the Stargate Program. That didn't mean that they weren't also occasionally twelve-year-old boys, regardless of their ages and genders. So when the email went viral among all the expedition members, he knew they were the source of it. One moment he was plodding away at the problem of recharging a ZPM, the next his screen was dominated by a series of semi-anonymous photographs of, well, people's posteriors, with the caption: Vote for the Best Butts of Atlantis!  
  
There were nine photos arranged in a three-by-three grid. Whoever had taken the photos had either taken them or later cropped them so that they were basically anonymous. Everyone was wearing uniform pants, no thigh holsters to distinguish between soldiers and civilians, not even a hint of the colored patches on the jackets to give a clue as what department any of the candidates belonged to.  
  
Rodney found himself squinting at the photos, pretty sure that candidate three was Teyla (not that he'd stared extensively at her ass or anything, but her ass was pretty cute). He suspected Ronon wasn't in the mix simply because he refused to wear an official Atlantis uniform, and no one had seen fit to try to persuade him otherwise. Rodney was completely sure that candidate seven was John (because, okay, he might have stared pretty extensively at John's ass).  
  
He refused to vote, however, on principle. He was a serious scientist and this was a serious expedition and the rapidly diminishing power in the ZPM was a serious problem. Naturally, everyone had to come rib him about it.  
  
"Who're you voting for?" Zelenka asked.  
  
"No one," Rodney said.  
  
Zelenka was looking at the photo poll on his own laptop. "Is it just me, or is candidate two Carson Beckett?"  
  
"I've never looked at Carson's ass, so I couldn't say." That was a lie, but Rodney kept staring at the ZPM schematics Kusanagi had drawn up as best as she could from multiple scans of a depleted ZPM.  
  
"I am guessing number four is Elizabeth," Zelenka said, and clicked on the photo vote.  
  
"Radek!" Rodney cried, scandalized. "She's our expedition leader!"  
  
"And she has the best butt in Atlantis," Zelenka said, and that was that.  
  
Ten minutes later, Major Lorne stopped by to attempt to initiate a device for Gretchen. "Picked a winner yet, McKay?"  
  
"No. I think it's puerile."  
  
The stupid poll had been programmed to dominate his computer screen every two minutes until he either voted or minimized it. Apparently the marines had had help.  
  
"I have to say, I think the photos turned out really well," Lorne said.  
  
McKay raised his eyebrows. "You participated in this – this farce?"  
  
"Have to keep troop morale up. Part of my duties as XO. And I have the best camera. It was pretty tricky, getting some of those shots. Everyone agreed they had to be candid, so it would be fair. No posing." Lorne was eyeing the photos with a scholarly air.  
  
"So you know who everyone is?" Rodney asked.  
  
"Yep. Already cast my vote." Lorne grinned at him. "I think the winner will really surprise everyone."  
  
"I doubt it," Rodney grumbled. In the mess hall, he saw a gaggle of marines crowded around someone's datapad. They were arguing who was who and who to vote for. Most of them were rooting for Teyla, but some of them recommended voting for John just to get a rise out of him, because he never saw that kind of thing coming.  
  
"Who're you voting for, McKay?" One of the marines spotted Rodney alone at his lunch table and grinned.  
  
"For the last time, no one." Rodney grabbed his sandwich and stomped out of the mess hall, because this whole thing was insufferable.  
  
Elizabeth, of course, was abstaining from voting, because it was only right, as the expedition leader.  
  
John plopped down on the corner of Rodney's desk right as the stupid poll re-asserted itself. Rodney had sent an email to Dr. Naoe, asking him to remove the damn thing, as it was behaving like a virus, but the little punk hadn't responded.

"Picked a winner yet?" John asked, crunching into an apple. Apple juice dripped down his chin. Rodney watched its progress out of the corner of his eye not because he wanted to lick it away but because he didn't want it landing on his keyboard.

"Tell me which one is yours so I can feed your ego and then leave me alone," Rodney snapped.

John, of course, was unfazed by Rodney's temper. He leaned in, peered at the screen. "I think eight is a winner."

"I'm not voting," Rodney said. He felt like it was the only thing he'd said all day.

"Your loss," John said. "See you."

Rodney was proud of his willpower and superior maturity, because finally, at midnight, the stupid poll timed out. Voting was closed. Finally, he'd be left in peace.

But at two minutes past midnight, something popped up on his screen again.

The winners.

Number three was, of course, Teyla. Rodney had identified her photo correctly.

Number two was Sheppard. Huh. Rodney would have thought he'd be number one.

And number one was...Rodney McKay?

He stared at his own name blinking on the screen and, despite the fact that the lab was completely deserted, blushed a bright and furious red.

And then he squinted at the photo some more. It was candidate eight.

He remembered John's words from earlier. _I think eight is a winner._

And just like that, he _knew_ who'd been responsible for the whole thing.

Rodney almost forgot to save his work before he skedaddled out of the lab and for the nearest transporter. He emerged from the transporter down the hall from John's quarters. The door opened when he initiated the lock.

John was sitting on his bed, reading his copy of War and Peace. He glanced up, smiled. "Took you long enough."

"What was the meaning of that – that insanity all day today?"

John set the book aside and leaned forward, gaze intent. "The meaning is that I think you have a very attractive behind and I've been trying to get my hands on it for months, but you haven't seemed to notice."

"Notice? Notice what?"

"All the times I've volunteered to escort you on science recon missions to boring planets just so I could get you alone."

Rodney blinked. He'd assumed John had escorted him because all the marines outright refused due to personality conflicts.

"Or all the times I've brought you dinner when you've been late in the lab."

Rodney had thought that was considerate of John, but not particularly seductive behavior.

"Or how about all those times I've run past you first thing in the morning, completely shirtless."

Rodney had enjoyed those moments but assumed John was just one of those people who ran a little hot-blooded, and New Lantea was coming into its spring season.

"So I had to figure out a way to get you to understand that you are incredibly hot, and I'd like you in my bed, as soon as possible."

"So...you rigged that whole voting thing?"

John smirked. "Not a bit. Get over here, Rodney. You won the contest. Come claim your prize."

Rodney hesitated, because he was still wary, but then John peeled off his shirt and started unfastening his pants, so Rodney said, "Hooray for me," and moved in for a kiss.


End file.
